


and you are walking in circles

by LtTanyaBoone



Series: a walk to the summit at night [2]
Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Background Character Death, Canon Lesbian Character, Episode Tag, F/F, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "She swallowed thickly, trying to fight down the urge to reach out and take Dyson’s hand. Hold onto it as tight as she could. Entwine their fingers and never, ever let go again.The older woman let out a shuddering breath, her head whipping around when Lise finally lost the battle and took hold of her hand. She knew her grip was bordering on painful, could hear it in the surprised gasp that Dyson had let out, but much to the detective’s surprise, the DS didn’t withdraw. On the contrary, she actually turned her hand and pressed her palm against Delorme’s, holding on tightly in return."//sort of episode tag to S03E02 (so spoilers!) with adjustments to make it fit with the events of"a ghost that the others can't see", sequel of sorts





	and you are walking in circles

**Author's Note:**

> **trigger warnings/content warnings** for: death, grief, mental health issues/mental illness, discussion of suicide
> 
> I want to preface this with two things.  
> One: I very much appreciate the show establishing Dyson as a wlw. It means a lot, so much that I can’t really express it in words. Seeing a competent and well respected woman in a male dominated field in itself feels like a victory (never mind three, with delorme and harris also on the show), and the show making at least one a wlw just… it makes me feel seen. I am so used to shows ruining the amazing things they set up with their female characters (esp crime shows *cough*ncis*cough*criminalminds*cough*rizzoli&isles*cough*) that Cardinal is making me feel really anxious, because the amazing stuff that they’ve been doing in the two (!!) episodes this season already with Dyson and Delorme (and Harris as well to an extent) just makes me feel like I’m waiting for the moment they set it all on fire and laugh in my face for the audacity of getting my hopes up. I really, really hope they don’t ruin it, bc I want to keep loving this show.
> 
> And two: I love Sylvie. She seems like an amazing person and I’m very glad that she exists and Dyson has her. That said, I started [‘a ghost that the others can’t see’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551103) before Dyson’s sexuality and that she has a partner was revealed and went into it thinking that she was single and that her being gay was just a headcanon and me being silly. I never in a million years would have thought Cardinal would do this, which probably says a lot about the state of the tv landscape currently.  
> Anyways, yes, Sylvie. I feel the need to absolve myself of my crime against her character, so to speak, with this disclaimer: I very much hope that Dyson and her do not break up on the show. For the sake of this, however, they did. (bc neither Delorme nor Dyson strike me as the kind of people who would cheat and I did not want to erase her completely from canon by just vanishing her out of existence, so this is the compromise) [given how many wlw characters, specifically lesbians, die in tvlandia, i will be damned before i add in any way to their disappearance. sylvie ?dyson? exists, she's alive and well and as far as i am concerned, she will continue to do so.]
> 
> I know this was very lengthy, if you’ve read all of it, congratulations, have a cookie.

Funerals. If anyone had told her beforehand that, going into this job, just how many of these she would end up attending, Delorme might have actually changed her mind. Especially considering how this was the second funeral in as many weeks, and neither one of them had really anything to do with her work at all. That was, if you ignored the matter of her only knowing the parties through the people she worked with.

She lifted the glass of her lips, taking a sip of the water. Her eyes were still firmly on her DS, watching her intently.

Dyson seemed, composed. Yes, that seemed to be the appropriate word. Not strong, because Delorme could see the cracks, could see the weariness and the grief seeping out through the fissures in the mask of the stoic Detective Sergeant. She briefly wondered if the others could see it, as well. Or if it was just something she noticed.

If Cardinal were here, she’d ask him. Would ask if he saw it, too, the way Dyson seemed so much smaller than usual. But he wasn’t. Had opted to not attend this particular funeral, the death of his wife still too recent, still too painful for him to confront mortality yet again in such a short amount of time. Too raw his own emotions to allow him to endure being confronted with a whole host of other mourners.

Delorme swallowed, emptying her glass and going in search of a refill. She’d vowed that she’s stay sober today. That, no matter how much she wanted to have a drink, she wouldn’t. Because she knew what would probably happen, if she did. Seeing Dyson so distressed, it did curious things to her, and she wouldn’t be able to resit the urge of comforting her, of trying to make things more bearable, even if it was by making the outside world fall away for just a few hours or even just a couple of moments.

Dimly, she thought that if this string of funerals persisted, she’d have to get more black clothes. She didn’t particularly like wearing them more than once, if she was honest. Not if she had previously worn them to a funeral, that was. It felt like there was just something lingering about them, something that clung to the materials, that made her feel, uncomfortable, with putting them on again, even if it would just be around the house. Something that marked them as, unlucky, that tainted them in a way nothing could ever dream of redeeming them. She usually ended up donating them.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the refreshments table and filled up her glass again before setting it down. As she turned, her eyes caught sight of curly blonde hair, Delorme’s heart doing a strange sort of jostle in her chest when she realized who it belonged do.

Dyson’s ex-wife was somewhat of an open secret, at the precinct. When Delorme had transferred from Financial, the two had just recently split. By the end of the Pine and Curry case, there were rumors that Dyson’s spouse had filed for divorce.

She’d never spoken to Dyson, about the woman. Yet Delorme still had gotten the sense that it had not been a lack of love or attraction that had seen them split up, but a case of the job becoming too demanding. It was a familiar reason and possible the cause of most break-ups and divorces around the precinct. Lise knew that it had definitely been a contributing factor in the annihilation of her own marriage.

It suddenly struck her that she felt for Sylvie in a way she had not felt for her own husband. Felt sorry that Dyson hadn’t had the time necessary to devote to their relationship and been unable to give her wife the attention she’d needed and deserved. It was strange, Delorme thought, how angry the idea had made her in relation to Josh, that her husband would presume to have a monopoly on her time and grow so upset with her when she chose to invest more of it and her attention into her career, but how understanding she now could be for the needs of someone who was, by all intents and purposes, a virtual stranger. Besides a few pictures, she’d never seen Dyson’s ex-wife before, nor had she ever interacted with her, on any occasion.

Delorme reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, drawing a slow breath.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? She should have decided to go work for a bank, after college. God knew she probably have more money now, and a more reliable sleep schedule, as well. She might actually still be married, as well, though Delorme wasn’t entirely certain if that wouldn’t actually be an argument against that particular path her life might’ve taken.

Her cell phone chirped softly in her pocket and she pulled it out, frowning when the number of Ident flashed across the screen.

“Oui, Delorme,” she murmured as she answered, trying to hurry as politely as possible from the room and out of the funeral home. She owed Harris a big thank you, for unwittingly getting her out of there.

* * *

She swallowed thickly, trying to fight down the urge to reach out and take Dyson’s hand. Hold onto it as tight as she could. Entwine their fingers and never, ever let go again.

The older woman let out a shuddering breath, her head whipping around when Lise finally lost the battle and took hold of her hand. She knew her grip was bordering on painful, could hear it in the surprised gasp that Dyson had let out, but much to the detective’s surprise, the DS didn’t withdraw. On the contrary, she actually turned her hand and pressed her palm against Delorme’s, holding on tightly in return.

It felt like blasphemy, in the most thrilling and most inappropriate way possible. Delorme bit back a chuckle.

She tried to not let the Catholic Church’s official stance on her sexuality influence her own thoughts and beliefs. Lord knew it was difficult, and she had tried to leave the Church on several occasion, but something always kept pulling her back. Made her return, ever the repentant sinner. Well, sinner, yes, but repentant? That depended on what technical sin they were talking about, she supposed.

Dyson drew a ragged breath and lifted her eyes back to the mosaic that Delorme had been staunchly staring at the whole time. She’d refused to look at her DS. It was bad enough, that she was so weak, so utterly unable to control herself and her emotions. She didn’t need to see Dyson’s reaction to her shortcomings, could imagine them quite vividly herself, thank you very much.

“Where’s Jane?” she whispered, her voice overly loud and echoing in the empty church. She wasn’t sure, where the name had come from. How she knew that that was the girl’s name, that Dyson’s niece was called Jane. It might have been the woman’s sister who’d whispered the name, the night Delorme had spent in the the Emergency Room with her DS and her sister. Or it might have been Noelle, who’d told her. She couldn’t remember.

“At home,” Dyson answered, her voice just as low, just as echoing and loud. Delorme wasn’t sure, how she was even able to hear her, over the pounding of her heartbeat, over the rushing of blood in her ears.

“Sylvie is watching her,” she added, and Delorme’s confusion cleared, for a second, before it was replaced by a hot veil of jealousy. She quickly shook her head, berating herself.

She’d made it perfectly clear, that whatever it had been, between the other woman and her, that it was over. That they were done, that she was done with it and didn’t want to pursue it anymore. She’d left her, left Dyson hanging and turned her back on the older woman, in the moments when she’d probably needed her the most. She’d been a terrible partner and a horrid friend, and if Noelle was finding comfort in the woman that had previously shared her whole life with her, that had once promised to be by her side forever, then who was Delorme to judge? She certainly had no place, feeling any jealousy at all. After all, she hadn’t been volunteering to watch the little girl or be any part of her life whatsoever. Had been rather eager to get away from that sort of responsibility, actually.

“She’s been having terrible nightmares,” Dyson said, looking down into her lap. Lise felt her thumb move, gently stroking over the back of her hand. It sent a shiver down her spine, the contact. Made her close her eyes and take a very deliberate breath.

“I did, too,” she heard herself whisper. Granted, she’d been much older than the little girl, when her mother passed, but it had still affected her. Had shaken her to the core and turned into countless nights spent trashing around and waking with a scream in the months after.

Dyson tensed up next to her before she let out a ragged breath.

“I don’t know how to-” she started before she cut herself off with a sharp shake of her head.

“Just be there,” Delorme offered, knowing that it was pretty useless, as far as advice was concerned. It was probably something that the other woman already knew, was already very much aware of. Yet Lise still couldn’t stop herself from continuing, from pressing on.

“She’s a child, she’s scared. She just lost her mother, part of her is afraid that everyone around her will leave, as well. She just needs to see that it’s not true.”

Noelle inclined her head, not answering, and Delorme briefly considered pulling back her hand. Considered getting up and walking away. But she couldn’t. She felt, glued to the pews. Felt stuck there, in this strange sort of limbo St. Vincent’s at night seemed to be. This liminal space, where the outside world fell away and time ceased to matter and all that existed were Noelle and her, the only two people left on Earth.

* * *

The bathroom at the precinct had always been pretty small, to Delorme’s mind. It was single use, after all, made to only fit one stall, plus the sink and mirror.

Two people inside it, it was kind of, pushing its limits, she thought as she stepped inside, closing the door behind herself. Briefly she wondered, what the others would think, would make of that, but then gave a small shake of her head, clearing those thoughts away. Dyson had been in here for an hour, scrubbing away at her blouse it seemed. Delorme ducking in wasn’t the reason people would start talking.

No, but some might remember a certain comment she’d made months and months ago. Some people, like McLeod, who she’d jokingly told that she was sleeping with the DS and insinuated that that was the reason for her recommendation of Delorme of NIS over the older man. It hadn’t been true when she’d made the statement, of course, but things had very much changed since then, and Delorme lived in a constant state of anxiety that the man might discover just what the nature of her relationship with Dyson had been, at one point.

Then again, McLeod had seemed pretty concerned when he’d told them that the DS was back and that she’d spent the past sixty minutes in the restroom. And that, in turn, had only worried Delorme more.

She reached out, gently touching her hand to the distraught woman’s shoulder. The sound of the scrapping paper towels on the material of Noelle’s blouse grated on her nerves, frayed as they already were.

Dyson paused briefly in her motions, before picking them up again.

“She didn’t even care he’s dead,” she muttered under her breath. It made Lise shift and withdraw her hand before she crossed her arms. Leaned against the sink, trying to catch Dyson’s eye.

“You don’t know that,” she pointed out to her. “People grieve in different ways,” she reminded the older woman in a gentle voice.

Looking at her in other moments, it would be hard to tell just how much pain Dyson had been through recently. She seemed, off, yes, but not stricken with grief. Yet Lise did not doubt that she felt the loss of her sister keenly. Felt it just as much as Cardinal had felt the loss of his wife. And even when the two of them, Cardinal and Dyson, seemed strong and remarkably composed and very similar in that, it was easy to tell that they still grieved their loved ones in different ways. Delorme was pretty sure that Cardinal hadn’t so much as run a finger over his wife’s photography equipment since her passing, but she was fairly certain that Dyson would run hers over her sister’s belongings often, seeking out the tangible reminders of her life.

People were strange, she mused. So similar, yet so different at the same time.

Dyson let out an exhale and gave up on cleaning her sleeve. Threw out the towel and washed her hands, steadfastly avoiding Delorme’s gaze. She let her. If that’s what Noelle needed, right now, then she could have it. She’d pretend, for her sake, that the other woman wasn’t falling apart at the seams, and if talking about the case helped and distracted her, then she’d do that, too.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she offered softly, when Dyson didn’t say anything following her declaration that they didn’t have a suspect as of yet. She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. This wasn’t her being disrespectful to her DS. It was her being concerned for Noelle, it was her worrying about how much more she could take, before it would be too much and she’d break. “Go home. Be with your family. Go home to Jane, and Sylvie.”

Dyson looked up sharply at that, meeting Delorme’s brown eyes with her darker ones for a moment. Something passed behind them, something moved that made Delorme’s brows dip into a confused frown. She couldn’t identify the expression, the emotion behind it, but it threw her all the same, something stirring in her chest, her heart beating quickly inside her ribcage.

And then it was gone. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the expression slipped away as Dyson forced a smile.

“It’s easier here,” she said before turning and pushing past Delorme to leave the bathroom. Leaving the younger woman to stare down at where the back of Dyson’s hand had briefly brushed against her own as she moved past her.

* * *

Delorme shifted, leaning against the door jamb with her upper arm, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

The girl was sleeping soundly in her bed, one arm dangling over the edge. Fingers brushing the fur of a teddy bear that lay on the floor. She’d probably had been clutching it to her chest and then moved in her sleep, making it fall out of the bed.

Sylvie had called Cardinal about two hours ago, worried when Dyson hadn’t come home for dinner and she couldn’t reach her on her cell. Delorme wondered, if she’d purposefully not called her, or if it had merely been a matter of Cardinal and the blonde knowing each other and her feeling more comfortable in reaching out to him for that reason.

Cardinal then rang her when he’d found Dyson at the diner. Had called Delorme, to ask if she could go to Dyson’s place and take over for Sylvie. The woman had work in the morning and there was no telling, how long it might take him to convince Dyson to leave. To go home. And after a moment, Delorme had reluctantly agreed. She had a feeling that Dyson wouldn’t really appreciate her watching her niece, but at the same time, there weren’t many other options, unless they wanted to involve even more people from the precinct. And honestly, Delorme couldn’t see McLeod sitting vigil at a child’s bedside, no matter how hard she tried.

She’d been a little surprised, to find how nice Dyson’s former wife had been to her, when Delorme had come over. The blonde had explained to her the nature of Jane’s nightmares and given her a few pointers on how to calm the girl down, should she wake from one. She’d told Delorme that there hadn’t been one in a couple of days, but it might have been that the girl picked up on the tension earlier and that it would manifest in another screaming terror.

She’d briefly thought that, perhaps Sylvie had no idea, regarding the nature of her relationship with Dyson. Didn’t know, what had transpired between the two of them, and therefore had no reason to be catty. But then the other woman had looked at her in this strange way as she had been about to leave. As if she was seeing someone else where she thought she ought to be, and it had rather unnerved Delorme. Not that she’d said anything, oh no, the blonde had nodded, and given her a brief smile and then left without another glance back, but Delorme had a feeling that she wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep tonight, either.

Carefully, Delorme moved. Stepped into the guest bedroom and bent down to pick up the stuffed toy before tugging it back under the girl’s arm.

Jane moved slightly in her sleep, her arm tightening around the toy as she turned her face into its fur. The woman held her breath for a moment, afraid she’d accidentally woken her, but then the child relaxed back into sleep, and Delorme felt her lips tug into a soft smile at the sight.

She straightened and left the room, pulling the door almost closed behind herself. Her eyes automatically went down the hallway, to the closed door of Dyson’s bedroom. Delorme blinked, memories dancing behind her eyelids. Fevered touches on her skin. Hips pressing up, shifting, moving against each other. Her fingers running down a gently curved spine, trailing down the vertebrae one by one. Salty skin under her tongue, soft sighs and moan filling her ears-

Delorme jumped at the sensation of her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. She took it out and went to answer it, walking down the hallway to the den.

“Yes, Delorme,” she murmured, not having checked the caller ID.

“We’re about to head back.”

Cardinal’s voice was even, rough with the late hour. She found herself hit with a wave of regret and sympathy. This had been the last thing he’d needed. To have to go get their boss that was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and comfort her. Cardinal had enough on his plate already, she should have talked to him. Gone to get Dyson herself, instead of going to the house. But then again, perhaps her presence would have just upset the DS more, would have made it harder for her to reach a point where she felt well enough to get back home.

“Am I on speaker?” she asked carefully, not wanting to say anything that might upset Noelle in case she could hear, and heard Cardinal inhale.

“No. She’s using the bathroom.”

Delorme swallowed, nodding. “Jane’s still sleeping. No nightmares. You can tell her that, it’ll cheer her up.”

“Okay.”

Delorme hesitated, listening to the silence on the line.

“John-”

“She’s here, I’m gonna go,” he cut her off, ending the call before she could say anything else. It made her close her eyes as she lowered her phone. She put it away before heading for the kitchen. Put the kettle on, to make some tea. Chamomile, or at least that was her intention, until she found that Dyson didn’t have that. She did find the ginger and orange mix, though, and so picked that instead, the corners of her lips curving up at the memory of bringing Noelle a cup of this when they were both working late one night. She’d told her about her sister, then. Told her about the cancer diagnosis.

She’d just poured the two cups when she heard the car pull up and went over to the door to open it. She wasn’t sure, if Dyson had her key, and if she didn’t, she wanted to avoid her ringing the bell and waking Jane. The girl needed her sleep, Sylvie’d said that she’d been utterly exhausted when she’d put her to bed.

Dyson stepped past her into the house, ignoring both Delorme and Cardinal, who trailed behind her and stopped on the doorstep.

“I don’t think she had anything for dinner,” he said, nodding towards the house. Delorme cast a glance over her shoulder, brows dipping in concern.

“Wanna come in?” she asked him, stepping aside to make more room for his larger frame. “I made tea,” she added with a kind of self-deprecating chuckle. Watched with some relief as his lips curved briefly in the smallest hint of a smile. It had been so long, since she’d seen that. Understandably so, yes, but still, the constantly pained expression on Cardinal’s face was difficult to bear, and she was glad to see it gone, for however briefly.

“No,” he shook his head, hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat. He twisted, jerking his head towards the car. “I’m gonna head home. Catch some sleep,” he said, though Delorme caught the grimace on his face at those words. She’d noticed the dark circles. Knew he wasn’t sleeping well, if at all. Again, she didn’t blame him.

“Alright,” she nodded, her hand twisting around the doorknob. “John?”

“Huh?” he frowned, pausing halfway as he’d already started to turn away.

“You know you can call anytime. Yes?” she asked. Saw him swallow, his throat working once, twice, before he inclined his head, and then turned fully to leave. Delorme remained in the door, watching as he got into the car and then drove off. She’d wanted to say more, but hadn’t known how to put everything she wanted him to know into words. Had wanted to tell him how she felt for him. Had wanted to tell him that she considered him a dear friend, one she cared about very much. Had wanted for him to know that she hurt with him, that she saw his pain, and wished so very much to be able to ease it, even in the slightest bit.

She braced herself as she closed the door carefully and went to check on Dyson. Found her in the kitchen, staring down at the two cups of tea on the counter.

“I figured you could use something warm to drink,” Delorme offered. “If you’re hungry, I can fix someth-”

She didn’t get any further than that, Dyson’s lips on her own cutting her off rather effectively. Delorme let out a gasp of surprise, but her arms went up. Instead of pushing the older woman away, as she should have, she pulled her closer by her shoulders before her hands began roaming. One over Dyson’s shoulders and neck, the other twisting up onto her hair, grabbing it and pulling the other woman’s mouth against her own. Lise hips moved, pressing up against Dyson and she heard the other woman let out a relieved sigh before her hands pulled Delorme’s blouse free of her pants and slipped beneath the thin material.

Delorme shivered at the contact, the touch of Dyson’s hands on her naked back leaving behind a trail of heat. She whimpered into her mouth as the older woman grabbed her hips, steering her towards the hallway, at the end of which her bedroom lay. It took considerable effort not to moan out loud at the thought of what would happen, but Delorme didn’t want to accidentally wake the child, so she broke the kiss, busying herself with the task of trying to unbutton Dyson’s blouse as they stumbled along, the other woman opening the buckle of Delorme’s belt and the button of her pants. She didn’t notice they’d made it to the bedroom until she found herself turned around and her back hit the wood of the door with a resounding thud, but Dyson’s lips where already on hers again, and then her hand slipping into Delorme’s pants and every coherent thought left her.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure if i will do more of these kind of tags as the episodes air. 3x02 just left me squealing in delight in a dozen different ways and it needed out.


End file.
